Listen!
by GreenEyesGreySkies
Summary: Draco is quite certain that he's heard something strange outside. Harry just really wishes he hadn't offered to share a tent with the Slytherin prat in the first place. Hogwarts AU. This is my version of H/D sharing-a-tiny-tent cliche. (I'm cool).


_**drarry** pro__mpted by gracie-through-the-looking-glass_

**Prompt:** _Can you do a fic where Draco is scared off something silly and Harry comforts him. Either already together or not xxx_

**Author's Note: Hi guys. Quick drarry here since I haven't written or posted one in a while. For those of you who are currently reading/would like to read my ongoing Spoken chapter fic — I am SO sorry for the long waits. I'm actually planning on sitting down and writing chapter 11 when I go back home for Thanksgiving break at the end of November. Don't give up on me! I love you all; please enjoy this silly little thing xx**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters or the noises they may or may not hear.

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"Psst, Potter. Potter! Are you awake?"

"Mmph, no."

"Didn't you hear that?"

"_No_."

Pause. "There! There it was again, just now. Potter, get up! Get up! I'm serious!"

Harry pulled his covers over his head and groaned. He knew that it had been a bad idea to offer to share a tent with Malfoy—Ron had made especially certain to remind Harry over and over again of the repercussions of such a decision—but at the time… _nobody_ else had wanted to share with Malfoy. In fact, people had been arguing over who got to _not_ share with him. Of course, then Harry had gone and felt stupidly sorry for the dumb Slytherin prat. Honestly, couldn't anyone handle just one measly night with Malfoy? It was ridiculous… however, it was three in the morning now and Harry wasn't feeling very sorry anymore. He was feeling a bit murderous, actually.

"This isn't funny, Malfoy," he grumbled. "Go back to sleep before I call McGonagall on you."

Malfoy scoffed from the other side of the room. "Would you really do that for me, Potter? You are too thoughtful."

Harry rolled his eyes, even though he knew that Malfoy couldn't see him. Why had he agreed to go on this camping trip again? "Don't think for a second that I won't tell her you've been bothering me," he warned. "This is supposed to be a House Unity event. She'll punish you."

"Yes, yes, what else is new?" Malfoy shifted around a bit in his cot and then stopped abruptly. "Come on, Potter. Quit it!"

"Quit what?" Harry asked. "Are you actually trying to blame your delusions on me now?"

Malfoy grumbled and moved again. "Well, it's a rather conceivable notion, isn't it?" he snapped. "You are the only other person in here besides me, and oh, isn't that convenient? You also hate me."

"You're a fucking loon," Harry muttered.

Malfoy sniffed. "What did you just call me?"

"A fucking_ loon_," Harry said louder, scooting closer to the edge of the tent and farther from the sound of Malfoy's voice. "Would you shut up if I told you that it was me?"

"Yes."

"Okay, fine, it was me."

"I knew it!"

Harry felt his jaw tighten before he spoke. "You know, Malfoy, I could tell everyone that you attacked me in my sleep," he remarked irritably. "I reckon there are a lot of mysterious noises haunting the cells of Azkaban."

Malfoy was quiet for too long after that. Harry frowned a little. _Maybe that was a bit too harsh… Malfoy had been trying really hard to prove himself genuine lately… _Harry sighed and rolled over to apologise, only to yelp and leap back in surprise at Malfoy standing over his cot.

"What the hell?" Harry whisper-yelled. "What are you doing?"

Malfoy looked a mix of indignant and terrified—which, by the way, was a rather strange expression to be seen on the boy's angular features—before regaining his composure and scowling a little. "Well, it wouldn't do for the Boy-Who-Lived to go around telling lies, would it?" he asked sarcastically. "I thought I might as well give you something to cry about." His hands were trembling by his sides, but neither carried a wand to hex Harry with. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Malfoy," he fought the grin that was tugging at the corners of his mouth, "are you… _scared_?"

Malfoy stopped shaking and looked Harry straight in the eye. "No! I don't get scared—" He paused and glanced over his shoulder sharply, moving closer to Harry's cot and tugging on the covers with insistence. "Okay, don't tell me that you didn't hear _that_!"

Harry sighed and strained his ears; all he could hear was the quiet, normal noises of the night. "Hate to break it to you, but I think that it's just the wind you're hearing," he said. Then he snorted. "You don't get out much, do you?"

Malfoy leaned in dangerously close to Harry's face. "Potter, look at me," he growled. "I know you think that I'm a lying, no good, selfish piece of shit, but I'll have you know that—" he stopped and glanced about frightfully again. "Merlin's _BEARD_! It's getting closer!"

Startled from the sudden outburst, Harry fell backwards, taking both the covers and Malfoy with him; Malfoy had toppled over roughly and was now spluttering and hissing. Harry pushed at him. "Get off of me, you git!" he exclaimed, still shoving but to no avail. Malfoy was like a lead rock.

"You're the one who took me down!" howled Malfoy. "Let go!"

Grumbling and muttering to himself, Harry stopped pushing Malfoy, and the other boy started to get up—but just as he was about to heave himself off of the bed, he stopped rather suddenly and fell back onto Harry, very nearly crushing his chest, and lay still.

"_Ow_," Harry croaked, glaring up at the other boy. "What in the bloody _hell_ are you—?"

"Shut up," Malfoy whispered, frozen. "It's outside."

"Are you serious right now?"

"Potter!" Malfoy grabbed Harry's face forcefully with both hands. "Listen!"

Harry rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the fact that Draco Malfoy was essentially straddling him at the moment, touching him in places that Harry was rather uncomfortable with being touched. Harry had never really been this close to another bloke before—even though, yes, he had been thinking about it a lot nowadays… But he sure as hell had never thought about it with _Malfoy._ It was weird, to say the least. Why hadn't he?

"Are you even listening?" Malfoy asked aggressively.

"Yes," Harry lied, squirming a bit under the weight of Malfoy's body. "Now can you get off of me?"

Malfoy ignored him. "It's getting louder!" he squawked. "The clicking… Oh, gods!"

Then, without warning, Malfoy ducked his face into the crook of Harry's neck and squeezed him with the tightest iron grip that Harry had ever experienced in his life—and this was coming from someone who had survived all of Molly Weasley's various hugs during hols—Harry gasped and almost choked on the bit of Malfoy's blond hair that was falling onto his lips. It was surprisingly warm and silky without gel; Harry had half-expected it to be as hard and cold as Malfoy was. Still didn't taste good, however, and the new position wasn't particularly comfortable either.

"For heaven's _sake_—" he started to splutter.

Malfoy looked up. His eyes were round and seemingly devoid of any trickery. "Is it an army of mice? I hate mice, I'll have you know," he whispered.

Harry frowned. "I don't think mice have armies," he whispered back. Malfoy gave him a dirty look, and Harry sighed. "But sure, I guess it could be."

Malfoy slowly lowered his head and pressed it to Harry's chest now, as if trying to block out sound, and was very still again—if he was embarrassed about what he was currently doing, he wasn't showing it. Harry suddenly felt a strange rush of sympathy for the blond. "Malfoy?" he murmured. The other boy gave no response. Harry bit his lip and spoke anyway. "For the record, I don't think that you're a lying, no good, selfish piece of shit. I'm sorry that I ever made you feel that way."

Malfoy was quiet for a few more moments before looking up at Harry with an unreadable expression. "Don't pity me, Potter," he said softly. "I'm not one of your little projects, you know."

Harry thought that that was a rather odd thing to say—especially now, when Malfoy was clinging onto Harry as if his life depended on it. "It's not pity," he insisted. "It's the truth."

Malfoy kept staring at Harry, and suddenly they were both so close and so warm and so still that Harry found himself quite unable to breathe properly. Had Malfoy's eyes always been that clear shade of grey? Had his skin always looked so soft? Everything felt rather sensitive and sluggish now—Harry was afraid to move, but it seemed Malfoy was not. His clear grey eyes were almost half-lidded, his soft skin brushed against Harry's cheek… And perhaps this was the first time in a long time that Harry had let himself truly see and feel and touch and _listen_… Wait. Harry suddenly gasped and drew back.

"Crickets," he exclaimed.

Malfoy's eyes snapped open and he frowned. "Crickets?"

"That's the noise you've been hearing," Harry said now. "The crickets!"

Malfoy wrinkled his nose and finally sat up. "Don't be daft, Potter," he retorted. "I know what crickets sound like, for Merlin's sake."

Harry raised an eyebrow and sat up too. "Really?" he asked. "How many times have you ever gone camping?"

"Oh please, what does _that_ have to do with anything?" Malfoy demanded.

Harry grinned. "Exactly."

Malfoy shook his head. "You're bonkers."

"I can't believe that you're afraid of crickets!"

"I'm not afraid of any bloody crickets! It was a different noise!"

"No, it wasn't! Listen!"

They were both quiet for a moment. Now that Harry knew what to listen for, the little clicking cricket noises were easier to distinguish. He snorted. "See."

"No."

"No?"

"No!"

"Oh come on, Malfoy," Harry teased, having a bit of fun now. He almost completely forgot about the huge tension from before. "Criiiiickets!"

"You're a bastard," Malfoy muttered.

Harry burst out laughing. "A what?"

"A fucking loon bastard," Malfoy said now, which only made Harry laugh harder.

"Oh, oh, for Merlin's sake," Harry hooted.

Malfoy was getting angry again. "Shut up, Potter!" he snapped.

"Crickets! Gods, wait until I tell Ron!"

"Shut up!"

"Cricket-boy!"

"SHUT. UP."

Harry grinned and leaned forward. "Why don't you _make_ me?" he challenged.

Malfoy's face was rather red now and his eyes were flashing silver. He snarled and lunged at Harry, and Harry fell back—all he could see was the pure stormy rage of Malfoy's gaze, as the fuming Slytherin was flat on top of Harry once more. Gods. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the impact of Malfoy's fist against his jaw… But then, there wasn't. Because then, there was pressure against his _mouth_, not his jaw, and it was a firm, supple touch of skin, and not fist. And it tasted a bit like uncertainty and… and cinnamon. Harry opened his eyes slowly.

Malfoy had kissed him.

"I…" Harry murmured. He regretted it instantly. Malfoy drew back so quick it was as if the kiss hadn't even happened. They both looked away from each other.

"Um…" said Malfoy.

"You…" said Harry.

"Shut up?" Malfoy tried.

There was a strange feeling in Harry's chest now—he could probably chalk it up as the rapid beating of his heart, or the lateness of the hour, or the excitement of usual banter, or even the newness of intimacy—but then again… it could also be the hormones. Harry simply smiled and turned back to Malfoy.

"Want to know what I think?" he asked.

Malfoy still didn't look at him. "No."

"You like me."

"No."

"Yes."

Malfoy balked. "Well, then _you_ like me!"

"Yes."

"Ha, that's what I—wait, _yes_?"

Harry grinned. "You just now fell into my bed and proceeded to kiss me. Why pretend?"

Malfoy hmmph-ed a little and lay back against Harry again. "Well, fine," he remarked. "I suppose."

Harry tried not to grin again as Malfoy wriggled his way into Harry's arms without a word now, as if accepting a fate that neither of them had previously wanted or anticipated. Actually, Harry wasn't quite sure what was going on right now, but he did know that he was sleepy, and amused, and surprisingly content with another warm body in his presence—no matter how ridiculous or loud or Slytherin it was. And that was enough for the moment.

"Hey, Malfoy?" he asked.

"Mmm," Malfoy mumbled, already slipping back into a pleasant sleep once more.

Harry bit his lip and beamed to himself, throwing a protective arm around Malfoy's torso and leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

"_Crickets_."


End file.
